


follow the roses

by VOlympianlove



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Alternate Universe - Sleeping Beauty Fusion, Fairy Tale Elements, Fluff and Crack, M/M, Romance, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-07
Updated: 2019-12-07
Packaged: 2021-01-26 21:49:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21381124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VOlympianlove/pseuds/VOlympianlove
Summary: Chanyeol takes the untravelled road towards Yifan's home and finds much more than a little dusty cottage.
Relationships: Kim Junmyeon | Suho/Park Chanyeol
Comments: 10
Kudos: 64
Collections: ExOnce Upon A Time: Round II





	follow the roses

**Author's Note:**

> This is a suyeol short that I wanted to write just because I was bored of my usual ships. I just wanted to write something flowery and a naive, sweet Junmyeon. Largely inspired by his makeup in the Electric Kiss MV.

He was very lost.

The GPS stopped working about the same time he filtered off the main road.

Somewhere along the twenty miles west, the landscape had begun to change, the hard smooth tarmac transitioning into crispy golden leaves that crunched beneath the tires of his bike.

Chanyeol gripped his handlebars, swearing when the wheels skidded and he nearly slammed into a nearby tree.

He righted himself, slowing as the trees around him thickened and he could not see the main road anymore.

Where the hell was he?

Chanyeol poked at the GPS hopefully but the navigation needle only swiveled back and forth, the screen coming up blank.

“C’mon, c’mon,” he muttered to himself.

The sun was already beginning to set, tinging the leaves of the trees a flaming orange.

He checked his watch and cursed.

It was late. Yifan would be wondering where he was.

Kicking his bike back into gear, he sped up, the wind ruffling his hair as he dodged between trees, ducking to avoid low hanging branches.

The trees grew thicker still as he rumbled through the silent forest, filtering less and less light through until he came upon a thicket of thorns.

“What the hell?”

He slammed on his brakes, the sudden decrease in speed sending leaves flying everywhere.

It was a mass of thorns and vines, twirling around trees and choking the life out of them.

They stretched out for as far as he could see and there seemed to be no way to pass through without chopping down an entire section.

As Chanyeol drew closer, the roses became more visible. Red roses bloomed on the vines, the colour of blood, scattered through out the thicket of thorns.

Just beyond them, the spires of what looked like an ancient castle rose high in the air.

He stopped his bike just shy of the thorns, inhaling the fragrance of the roses.

There was a big one blooming just before his nose and he could not resist getting off his bike to touch the delicate petals.

Jongin would have loved those roses.

Biting his lip, Chanyeol shook off the ache that throbbed in his chest at the thought. This was no time to be thinking about his ex.

He curled his fingers around the stem of the rose without thinking and yelped.

When he yanked his hand away, there was blood beading up to the surface of his finger, where a thorn had stabbed him.

It had gotten him good too, as blood began to drip down his hand, staining the leather glove he wore.

“Fuck,” he cursed, sticking the finger in his mouth. The blood was metallic and salty as he sucked on it. He nearly bit his finger off when he looked up to see the thorns unfurling, a tunnel opening in the middle of the thicket.

It was just big enough for him and his bike to fit through.

Chanyeol stared at the tunnel in awe. He wiped his hand hurriedly on his shirt and hopped back onto the bike, rolling on the throttle.

The tunnel stretched out for much further than he had expected, with only a tiny square of light at the end guiding him. He checked his phone about midway through, praying and hoping that he would make it to Yifan’s home before the sun was completely down.

His eyes squeezed shut as he approached the square of light, too blinding to be comfortable and when he opened his eyes again, it was daylight.

“What-?” He brought his bike to a stop, his jaw hitting the ground when he took in the scene around him.

There were people dressed in clothes that looked like they were from a medieval fair, fast asleep. Some were standing up, slumped in a doorway and others were sprawled out across the ground, snoring.

“Where the fuck am I?”

Chanyeol gaped. He turned back to look in the direction of the tunnel he had just come from, certain that it had been close to nightfall on the other end.

But the tunnel did not exist anymore.

There was nothing more than a wild tangle of thorns and roses, too thick to pass through.

“Shit,” he cursed, rolling his bike along with him.

There was no sound, not even the chirping of birds in the air as he walked towards the looming castle just a little ways away.

“Hello?” he called, gripping the handlebars of his bike tighter as he approached the massive oak doors, “is anyone he-.”

The doors swung open, the hinges creaking ominously.

There was no one on the other side.

“Okay then,” Chanyeol swallowed.

He glanced behind him once more, just to check to that there truly was no other way to leave.

The briars almost seemed to taunt him, the brilliant roses waving in a gentle wind.

Chewing his lip, he made his way into the castle, feeling very out of place with his leather jacket and dyed blue hair.

There were more roses in the castle, gentle twirling vines that climbed up the walls, pretty pink roses filling the air with their fragrance.

His bike was too heavy to carry up the stone steps so Chanyeol had to leave it outside, by the marble fountain.

It was a lovely fountain, soft pink but bone dry.

His boot heels clicked on the steps as he scaled them.

He was panting by the time he arrived at the top, his forehead covered with a sheen of sweat.

There were another set of doors, twice as tall as he with heavy brass knockers.

His phone buzzed just as he reached for the knickers and he jumped.

The screen was lit up with a message from Yifan when he pulled it out, surprised that there was service when his GPS refused to work.

_Did you get there yet?_

Chanyeol frowned.

**_Where? I’m in front of a bloody castle. _**He replied, scowling to himself.

_Oh, you’re in the right place then. Just follow the roses._

Chanyeol stared, wide eyed.

** _Where exactly am I, Wu Yifan? This doesn’t look like your cottage. In fact, it’s the farthest thing from a cottage._ **

** **

_You’re in Aurelia._

** _Isn’t that a flower?_ **

** **

_No. It’s a kingdom._

Chanyeol wondered if Yifan had finally lost his mind. Living on the outskirts of civilization would to do that to you.

His phone buzzed and the screen showed an incoming call from Yifan.

Chanyeol wanted to throw his phone against the wall but that would not explain why his friend had directed him to this place that looked like it had jumped straight out of a fairytale.

“What the fuck am I doing here?” he asked the moment the call connected.

Yifan winced, his audio grainy and fuzzy.

“I owe a favor. A friend of mine needs a prince to save him. Just follow the roses and I’ll call you later. Be quick, Chanyeol.”

The line cut off before Chanyeol could even protest. He stared down at the screen in disbelief, unsure whether he wanted to laugh or cry.

The brass knocker made a dull sound on the wood when he lifted and banged it down, the heavy doors swinging open on their own accord.

Chanyeol slipped his phone into his pocket, tugging off his fingerless gloves as he walked through the doors, his jaw on the ground.

The entry way was massive, the floor covered with a crimson carpet that rolled right up to the base of the golden throne that sat in the middle of the room.

Roses trailed along the floor, soft and pink, though their trailing vines were a tripping hazard.

Yifan had told him to follow the roses, so he did.

The vines led to a little archway hidden behind the throne, wrapping delicately around the arch before trailing up a stone staircase, climbing up and up.

Chanyeol sighed to himself at the thought of more stairs but he started up them all the same.

The stairs wound up and up and up, dizzyingly high. He was sweating and had taken his denim jacket off about midway up.

Chanyeol had to grasp the wall to steady himself by the time the ground flattened out and the roses ended at a little wooden door that he would have to stoop to enter.

He pulled out his phone, doubling over to catch his breath.

Yifan was going to _pay_ for this.

“I’m going to skin you alive the next time I see you,” he snarled into the phone when his friend picked up.

Yifan was trying very hard not to laugh on the other end of the line. He chortled a little and Chanyeol fumed.

The nerve of him.

“Well, what do I do now?”

“The door should be unlocked. Go in and think Sleeping Beauty. You’ll know what to do.”

“Wait-,” Chanyeol wanted him to explain the part about a prince but Yifan was too quick.

He tried to dial him again but only arrived to voicemail.

_Damn you, Wu Yifan._

Cursing under his breath, Chanyeol curled his fingers over the doorknob.

The knob was metal and chilly against his skin. It stuck when he tried to turn it and it took him a good few tries and a bruised shoulder before he could shove the door open.

The hinges creaked horribly and Chanyeol wanted to cover his ears with both hands, but that would cause the heavy door to come swinging back at him.

His jaw hit the floor the moment he crossed the threshold.

That seemed to be a common reaction he had whenever he walked through a doorway in this place.

The room was a literal jungle of vines and thorns, with lovely pink roses blooming every so often to soften up the harsh look the thorny branches gave.

There was a single bed, its canopy a soft blue colour, contrasting against the pink roses and Chanyeol’s heart sank when he saw the vague figure of someone lying in the bed.

_Think Sleeping Beauty and you’ll know what to do._

Oh, Wu Yifan. He was _so_ dead.

Chanyeol sighed heavily through his nose, raising a hand to touch the literal curtain of vines.

He was careful not to pierce himself on the sharp thorns when he swept the vines aside, ducking under to arrive beside the bed.

The canopy draped around the bed was sheer enough that he could just about make out the profile of the man who lay in it, his hands folded at his navel, a flower clasped in his fingers.

Chanyeol gritted his teeth and yanked aside the curtain.

His breath hitched in his throat the moment his eyes fell upon the man’s serene face.

Little blue and red flowers danced along the right side of his face, his skin a perfect contrast against the bright colours.

His lips were the same colour as the rose he held in his hands, petal pink and invitingly soft.

“Oh, fuck you, Wu Yifan.”

Chanyeol swore.

If this was his friend’s way of setting him up, he was doing a very poor job at it.

Still, the poor man needed waking.

He sank onto one knee, very aware that if he were to do what he was about to in _his _world, there would possibly be a warrant for his arrest and a good few years in jail for him.

But the rules were different in this one.

So Chanyeol leaned over the bed and slotted their lips together for a brief moment, his eyes squeezing shut.

The beautiful man stirred as he pulled away, his lashes fluttering open. His lips curved into a soft smile when he saw Chanyeol and Chanyeol felt his heart skip a beat.

Fuck, he was gorgeous.

“Are you my prince?”

His voice was even and smooth, rich like velvet in Chanyeol’s ears.

“Do I look like a prince to you?”

The words came out harsher and more brash than he had intended them to and the man flinched, his eyes widening. He pushed himself to a sitting position as Chanyeol backed away.

“I- I don’t know,” he said softly, “I’ve never met one before.”

Chanyeol could only stare.

“Aren’t you a prince?” he asked slowly, folding his arms over his chest. He had never seen anyone who looked more like a prince than the man sitting in the bed, cupping the flower so delicately as if it were made of glass.

“Well-, I am?” The man flushed, flustered.

“How have you never met another prince?” Chanyeol marveled.

The man ducked his head, cradling his flower.

“I was um, delicate?”

Chanyeol had no idea what that meant but it must have something to do with why he needed Yifan’s help.

“So… can I go home now? Preferably to Yifan’s home so that I can skin him alive?”

He had not meant it literally but the man did, as he sprung up, wide eyed and horrified.

“Why would you do that? Yifan is a kind man! He helped me out of a tight spot.”

“A tight spot?” Chanyeol’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head.

“Listen, mister or Your Highness, whatever. I need to get out of here so that I can giving my friend a proper telling off,” he huffed, feeling only a little bit bad when the prince flinched, “so save your ungratefulness and show me out of this place.”

“Oh no, no! I wasn’t trying to be ungrateful,” the man rushed to explain, nearly dropping his flower in his haste. His cheeks were tinted the prettiest pink as he fumbled with his words.

“I just-, won’t you stay a while? The kingdom will be waking soon and there will be celebrations.”

Chanyeol scoffed but one look at the prince’s hopeful face and he cursed internally.

How could a grown ass man be this beautiful?

Jongin had been the handsome type.

Chanyeol chewed his lip, shaking his head. Why had Jongin popped into his mind anyway? It had already been a year since they split.

He was about to reply when his phone buzzed in his pocket.

Tugging it out, he answered it without looking at the caller id.

“Hello?”

“Oh, Chanyeol. Good job! How’s Junmyeon?”

Fucking Yifan.

“You’re a terrible friend,” he growled into the phone, ignoring Junmyeon’s frantic wringing of his hands.

“Hey, I just thought after Jongin- I mean that bastard, you know-,” Chanyeol glowered into the phone and Yifan went silent, as if sensing his impending doom.

“When I get my hands on you, you’re dead.”

“Oh, don’t do that,” a distressed voice piped up and Chanyeol was amused to see Junmyeon standing right by him, fiddling with his flower.

“Please don’t hurt Yifan.”

On the other end of the line, Yifan burst out laughing.

“Put me on speaker,” he chortled and Chanyeol rolled his eyes.

“Yifan?” Junmyeon stared at the phone in Chanyeol’s hand when he pulled it away from his ear, as if it was some alien technology. Which Chanyeol supposed it was, to him.

“Hi Myeonnie.” Yifan’s voice was warm and fond, a tone he never took with Chanyeol.

“Don’t worry about Chanyeol. He’s a big softie. Keep him for a little bit okay?”

Junmyeon burst out before he could finish.

“He won’t hurt you?”

Yifan laughed again when Chanyeol growled in response and Junmyeon cringed away, nearly squishing his poor flower in the process.

“No, he was just joking. You do remember what jokes are, don’t you?”

Junmyeon nodded and then realized that Yifan could not see him.

“Yes, yes. They’re things you say that are funny?”

Chanyeol could not help the laugh that burst out of him at that.

Junmyeon was too cute for his own good.

“Good prince. I’ll come down and visit soon. Do take care of Chanyeol for me.”

Junmyeon eyed Chanyeol dubiously at that request and almost whispered his next words.

“He looks like he can take care of himself just fine but alright.”

“Thank you. Chanyeol, I’ll come and get you in about a week’s time. Enjoy your holiday in Aurelia!”

That bastard.

Before Chanyeol could protest, he had hung up, leaving the line to beep sadly for a few seconds before he clicked off.

He cursed colorfully before Junmyeon was touching his arm, looking up at him with mournful eyes.

“What’s a holiday?”

-

Aurelia was not a bad place to be, when it was not covered with dangerous trailing vines and thorns as sharp as daggers.

The streets were strung with colourful flags in the colours of the Aurelian kingdom and the children ran freely about, with pastries in hand.

When Junmyeon led him before his parents, the king and queen, Chanyeol never felt quite so self conscious before.

Back home, dyed hair and ear piercings were exceedingly common but there, in a literal fairytale kingdom, he was the strange and outlandish one.

His motorcycle had been decorated with flowers, by the time he got to it, pink, yellow and white.

He had to discard them secretly while wheeling it to the stables.

Evidently, the royal family thought his two wheeled vehicle was some sort of noble steed.

Chanyeol did not have the heart to explain to them that it was a literally mishmash of metal to create a machine that moved.

“Do you mind?” Junmyeon asked quietly, lacing their fingers together. He smiled so sweetly that Chanyeol found that he did not, in fact mind having a pretty face on his arm while wandering the streets.

The vendors plied them with drinks, too thick ale and candied apples too hard to bite through.

Junmyeon bought him a bag of popped corn drizzled with caramel once he realised that Chanyeol did not relish the apples like he did.

“Is this all for you?” Chanyeol asked when they had wandered off to sit by the well in the middle of the town square.

Junmyeon looked at him in surprise.

“No, no of course not.” He gestured around them.

“This is for _you_, my prince.”

Chanyeol narrowed his eyes.

“I’m not a prince.”

Junmyeon faltered at his tone and even the flowers in his hair seemed to wilt a little.

“You are my prince. I wouldn’t have woken up otherwise.”

Chanyeol shook his head vehemently.

“Wrong, wrong and wrong. I’m just Chanyeol. No prince in me at all. You’ve got the wrong person.”

Junmyeon was silent for a beat before he rose slowly, twirling a rose between his fingers.

“Well, they’ll treat you like a prince here. You broke my spell. Now come along. You’ll need clothes for the ball tonight.”

Chanyeol could not get another word in edgewise as Junmyeon dragged him off, to a tailor in town that would be able to make him a suit and then to the cobbler for new shoes.

He drew the line at the shoes, however, insisting that his black leather boots were comfortable and showy enough for the ball.

By then, night was falling, the moon peeking its face from behind the clouds and stars beginning to twinkle in the sky.

Chanyeol could not help but laugh at Junmyeon’s excitement as he was dragged back into the castle to dress. The tailors fitted him into a navy jacket sewn with silver thread and embroidered with stars, sending him away to bathe while they finished up the jacket’s fit.

The handmaidens filled a bathtub full of warm water, chattering and flitting about to tend to his every need.

They poured soothing oils and sweet smelling herbs into the water, frothing bubbles floating away into the air while Chanyeol lounged about in a bathrobe, eating cheese and crackers from a plate.

Junmyeon himself had been taken away to dress and Chanyeol felt a little naked without him, having grown used to his presence.

They helped him to dress after his bath, their voices blending into one as Chanyeol tried to make sense of his outfit.

It was all rather overwhelming.

“We haven’t had a ball in _so _long,” one of the girls squealed as she draped his jacket over his shoulders, helping him slide his lanky arms into the sleeves.

“He’s so handsome too! A perfect match for our prince!”

Chanyeol’s cheeks burned at the compliments they showered him with.

They were about to sit him in a chair to do his hair when there was a polite knock on the door.

The girls squealed and hugged each other as the doors swung open.

Chanyeol’s breath caught when he turned to see Junmyeon standing in the doorway, dressed in a simple white tunic and black dress pants. There were flowers woven in his hair, colourful against his dark locks and as he drew closer, Chanyeol could see dark kohl lining his eyes.

“You look lovely,” the prince said softly and Chanyeol flushed.

“So do you,” he answered and Junmyeon’s smile snatched his breath away.

He shooed the girls out of the room and came forward, delicate fingers touching Chanyeol’s blue tinted hair.

“Your hair,” his touch was gentle and Chanyeol had never been looked at like this before, back home, Junmyeon’s eyes full of fascination, “is it real?”

“Oh, this?” Chanyeol fluffed it out, carelessly sweeping it back. Junmyeon’s pupils expanded a little and he deduced that the prince had like that.

Jongin usually laughed and called him an idiot.

He narrowed his eyes again.

Junmyeon was not Jongin and it was not fair to compare the both of them.

“It’s dyed.”

“Dyed,” Junmyeon echoed, “like the fabrics of our clothes?”

Chanyeol raised his eyebrows but nodded.

“Something like that.”

Junmyeon looked at the blue thoughtfully and brushed the stray strand over to the side.

“There,” he said, “you look like a prince.”

The ball that they threw in his honor was nothing like the parties back home.

It was lavish and extravagant, with so much food and people and dancing.

People kept coming up to Chanyeol, offering him tidbits of foods and drinks that he had to kindly refuse. Junmyeon remained glued to his side, smiling and waving to the people.

They mingled only a little, Junmyeon seeming to sense how uncomfortable the situation was for Chanyeol, quickly squirreling him away to a secluded balcony.

“I’m actually not supposed to be here unchaperoned,” he confessed as Chanyeol threw back a glass of red wine like it was a shot, fiddling with another flower that he had somehow managed to procure.

Chanyeol snorted.

“What are you, six?” He bit down into a meat pie that Junmyeon snuck out for him.

“No, I’m the prince who was just awoken from a curse. My parents want me close,” Junmyeon said stiffly, “my world is not like yours.”

“Have you been to my world?” Chanyeol asked, curious. He wanted to know what Junmyeon thought about the modern things, little things that he did not have in this fairytale world.

“No but I do wish to visit.”

Chanyeol was about to say something when screams began echoing through the ballroom.

A guard bolted on the balcony they were standing on, his lance raised.

“Come quickly, Your Highness,” he urged and Junmyeon reached out, grabbing Chanyeol’s hand.

“What’s happening?”

A large shadow fell over them before the guard could reply and they looked up to see a massive dragon half the size of the castle swooping down towards them.

Junmyeon’s eyes narrowed.

“Yifan?” He called, taking a step towards the banister.

The dragon roared and when it looked down at them, its eyes glowed purple.

“Oh,” Junmyeon staggered back, his voice weak and faint, “that’s not Yifan.”

He swayed a little and Chanyeol yelped, catching him close.

“Get inside!” the guard roared as with a careless flick, the dragon decimated a row of trees with its tail.

Its glowing purple eyes were fixed onto Junmyeon, gleaming with menace.

Chanyeol obeyed, dragging Junmyeon along with him.

“He’s not supposed to be here,” Junmyeon muttered weakly as Chanyeol settled him into a chair. His face was pale with fright, a servant scurrying up with a fan.

“Junmyeon!” The king and queen burst into the room, frantic with worry.

“He’s fine,” Chanyeol found himself saying even as Junmyeon leaned against his side, looking as if he might faint.

There was a horrible screech and the sound of something heavy crumbling and Chanyeol winced.

“Is that a tower?” he asked and the king grimaced.

“Perhaps.”

“Bring me the prince!”

The dragon shrieked, its wings sending gales of wind sweeping into the ballroom and Junmyeon shivered, lacing his fingers into Chanyeol’s hand.

Somehow, he still managed to hold on to that blasted flower that he had been toying with outside on the balcony.

“God save us all,” the queen murmured under her breath when the heavy oak doors blasted open and a man stood in middle of the doorway, stalking towards them.

His eyes glowed purple, the very same as the dragon’s and he had wings, the colour of midnight, folded down his back like a cloak.

In his hand, he held a staff with a glowing purple orb and a little gargoyle perched on his shoulder, its ugly face leering at Chanyeol.

“Jongdae,” Junmyeon said, so faintly that Chanyeol could hardly hear him.

“Well, well, well. It looks like my spell worked after all,” the man said pompously and Chanyeol had to stifle a laugh.

The dragon man was much shorter than he was and he had to tilt his head to look him in the eye.

“Pretty prince,” the gargoyle squawked, its tiny wings fluttering as it leered at Junmyeon.

Or it tried to.

It was rather difficult with Chanyeol in the way.

“Jongdae, did you really have to destroy a tower just to come see your brother?”

The king asked tiredly and the queen shook her head.

“You’ve frightened the life out of him,” she glowered, folding her arms across her chest.

“_And _you could have flattened them both,” the king added.

“The theatrics were fun,” the dragon man, now named Jongdae pouted, “but the lances _hurt_.”

He spun around and the king and queen moved closer to Junmyeon, as if to shield him.

“Really, Mother, I’m not going to curse him again. The first time was an accident! And look!”

Jongdae gestured wildly at Chanyeol, his staff throwing stray sparks all around the room.

“I even fixed it! I found him a prince!”

Chanyeol’s eyes just about bulged out of his head. He looked from Jongdae to Junmyeon, wide eyed.

“You? Are his brother?”

Jongdae pouted again and folded his arms across his chest, nearly blasting his father with his magic staff.

“Don’t sounds so surprised, Chanyeollie. I can be just as pretty as my big brother. Can’t I, hyung?”

“And- and that was _your _curse?” Chanyeol flapped his hands and Junmyeon sighed, a little colour returning back to his cheeks.

“My brother has a flair for theatrics.”

“Clearly. He destroyed an entire row of trees!”

Chanyeol could clearly remembering the fear that bubbled in his chest when he saw the trees fall, yanked out of the ground by the dragon’s massive tail.

“I was _waving_!” Jongdae scowled and Junmyeon’s lips tightened.

“You were also screaming for them to bring you the prince.”

“Oh,” Jongdae paused, “Baekhyun said it would be funny.”

Junmyeon exhaled, his brows knitting together and Chanyeol curled his hand around his shoulder, squeezing gently.

“Well, it was not, little brother. Mother was right. You did frighten me half to death. I thought you were about to curse me again.”

“Why did he even curse you the first time?” Chanyeol was looking from one brother to the other, utterly confused.

Junmyeon rolled his eyes, the most unprincely thing that Chanyeol had ever seen him do and folded his hands primly in his lap.

“I’ll tell you if Jongdae puts away that silly staff of his and promises not to curse me to sleep for a hundred years again.”

“That was _one _time!” Jongdae stomped his foot and everyone winced when two bulbs popped. He stuck out his tongue childishly and his staff shrank, smaller and turning into a a polished blade that the sorcerer sheathed at his hip.

“He thought I needed to get some action,” Junmyeon grumbled.

“So he cursed you with a sleeping beauty spell?” Chanyeol was still bewildered.

“Why all the fanfare then?” He gestured around him at the colourful throne room.

Junmyeon stared back at him.

“Chanyeol, we were asleep for a full year. Waking up is a cause for celebration.”

“Why not just look for a prince from the neighboring kingdom then? I’m not a prince!” Chanyeol spread his hands helplessly.

Jongdae cut in, almost proud when he said, “my spell was powerful enough to cause half the world to fall asleep too!”

“Jongdae, no,” Junmyeon said sternly, folding his arms across his chest. There were flowers growing at his feet, straight out of the red carpet and it might be Chanyeol’s imagination but out of his hair too.

Chanyeol was speechless.

“I want to go home,” he declared eventually, plucking a flower out of Junmyeon’s hair. “This place is insane and I don’t want to be here anymore.”

Junmyeon’s face crumpled a little before his expression smoothed into a completely neutral one.

“I don’t know any doorways that would take you back home but perhaps Jongdae…” He glanced at his younger brother, who was toying with the little gargoyle on his shoulder by cooing at it.

“He was the one who contacted Yifan on the other side.”

Junmyeon twirled his flower between his fingers uncertainly and Chanyeol stuck his hand into the pocket of his pants.

“It’s fine. I’ll just- call him.”

Junmyeon’s eyes drifted to his phone, peering over his arm curiously as Chanyeol scrolled through to his recents and dialed Yifan’s number.

The call went straight to voicemail and so did the next three times he tried.

_Suck it up and deal. If you break Junmyeon’s heart, I’ll break you._

His phone dinged and a text message from Yifan appeared on the screen.

Chanyeol shoved the phone into his pocket with a growl of frustration, Junmyeon looking at him worriedly.

“He’s not coming until my week is up,” he said and Junmyeon’s expression brightened the tiniest bit.

“Well, that’ll give you time to get to know my brother a little better then!” Jongdae clapped his hands, grinning.

Chanyeol cast Junmyeon a glance, the prince having turned a pretty shade of pink.

“Maybe,” he muttered, unsure of what he would have in common with a literal prince who caused flowers to sprout wherever he stood.

Chanyeol would be lying if he did not feel a little flattered that the prince wanted him to stay, but he had little to no interest in pursuing anything right now, no matter what Yifan thought.

And a curse was a stupid reason to set him up, no matter how beautiful and sweet the guy was.

-

A spark, when given time and the right conditions, could grow into a flame.

No matter how much he fought it, Chanyeol could not help but feel a spark when it came to Junmyeon.

Junmyeon fed his flame unknowingly, that very first night that Chanyeol slept in the castle.

He had insisted on showing Chanyeol to his room himself, even though there were plenty of servants who could do the job.

Chanyeol pretended not to notice the salacious wink that Jongdae sent him when Junmyeon led him off, his stupid gargoyle following after them, occasionally almost swooping into flickering flames with its clumsy wings.

“Does the gargoyle have a name?” Chanyeol asked when Junmyeon finally grew tired of the thing nearly frying itself and snatched it out of the air, cuddling it close.

“I’m Baekhyun,” the gargoyle answered, glaring at him with beady eyes, “and I can speak.”

It squirmed a little in Junmyeon’s arms and settled when the prince did not let up.

“Do not grow flowers on me,” it threatened even as Junmyeon hummed, little daisies popping up on its stony back.

Chanyeol hid a smile when Baekhyun rolled over in Junmyeon’s arms, squishing the flowers against the prince’s arm, wriggling happily when Junmyeon scratched his belly.

“Here is your room for the week,” Junmyeon pushed open a nondescript door and Chanyeol gaped at the grandeur.

“This is too much,” he gasped.

There was a fourposter bed, draped with a royal blue canopy. The sheets were the same rich colour, matching the drapes on the window on the far side of the room.

“Only the best for my prince,” Junmyeon answered with a soft smile and Chanyeol swallowed when flowers popped up on the floor, blush pink and white.

“Thank you,” he said sincerely, “even though I’m not a prince.”

Baekhyun the gargoyle chortled and muttered something too low for Chanyeol to hear but Junmyeon had clearly heard it as he went as pink as the flowers on the floor.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” he said, giving Baekhyun a little squeeze, hard enough that the gargoyle yelped and muttered something so incredibly inappropriate that even Chanyeol blushed.

The fairytale world shaped up to be even more interesting than Chanyeol had imagined once he got over the fact that they did not, in fact, have WiFi even though he could get cell service.

He spent more time outdoors with Junmyeon anyway, than on his phone, trying to reach home.

The prince always had something new and exciting for him to try, a new place to explore.

Chanyeol thought he would be good at riding with the amount of time he spent on his bike but horseriding gave his ass a whole new kind of ache in muscles that he did not know existed.

“I’m still sore from yesterday,” he complained when he met Junmyeon for breakfast, the prince once again twirling a flower absently in his hand.

“You’ll get used to it,” Junmyeon laughed, standing on his tip toes to tuck his flower behind Chanyeol’s ear, “come along now. We have much to see.”

Chanyeol did not think he would, but he got accustomed to Junmyeon reaching for his hand, tangling their fingers together as they walked down the streets, a piping hot pastry in his other hand.

He did not know if hand holding meant what it did in his world here, but judging from the way Jongdae waggled his eyebrows whenever he saw them, it probably did mean the same.

“Do you not like it when I hold your hand?” he asked when Chanyeol returned to him one morning, pushing a meat pasty into his hand.

Chanyeol blinked.

“I don’t mind it?” he answered, stealing a bite from Junmyeon’s pasty.

Junmyeon looked away at that but Chanyeol could see his lips curl into a soft smile.

Chanyeol bumped his shoulder gently and the prince turned to look at him, squeezing his hand a little tighter as he took a bite of the steaming pasty, a contented sound escaping his lips.

“Coming through, coming through!”

A shrieking interrupted Chanyeol’s thoughts and they both looked up to see a stone gargoyle bumbling through the air, his tiny wings barely able to hold his weight.

“One day he’s going to really injure someone,” Junmyeon muttered just before Baekhyun reached them, releasing Chanyeol’s hand to catch Baekhyun mid-air.

“I saw that!” Baekhyun yelled into Junmyeon’s face and Chanyeol laughed, covering his mouth when the gargoyle turned to glare at him.

“Holding hands, unchaperoned. Unacceptable!”

“Oh, Baekhyun,” Junmyeon sighed, cuddling him close.

Electric blue flowers popped up onto Baekhyun’s stony back and he squeaked.

“No flowers, Junmyeon.”

“I won’t grow flowers on you if you left us alone. Did Jongdae send you?”

Chanyeol reached over to scratch Baekhyun’s head as the gargoyle rolled over in Junmyeon’s arms, mocking biting at his hand.

“Jongdae doesn’t _send _me anywhere,” he grumbled.

Chanyeol watched Junmyeon heft the little thing into his right arm so that his left would be free to hold his hand.

Warmth spread through his chest even as the gargoyle squawked something about Chanyeol not officially courting Junmyeon and not being allowed to hold hands.

The tiny thing was more protective than Junmyeon’s own brother was.

“Do be quiet, Baekhyun. We aren’t doing anything scandalous.” Junmyeon’s smile made his heart melt and Chanyeol could not help but tuck a stray strand of the prince’s hair away behind his ear.

It was such a cheesy move but it was all worth it to see the prince blush like a rose.

Junmyeon was not pushy or overwhelming.

He was gentle and so sweet that Chanyeol often had the sudden urge to scoop him up in a big hug.

Junmyeon brought flowers every morning, sprinkling them about Chanyeol’s room to brighten up the place, as he called it and always had a spare daisy on hand to tuck behind Chanyeol’s ear.

HIs fascination with Chanyeol’s hair led him to growing almost electric blue flowers in his own room and Chanyeol found that he rather liked the look of them woven into Junmyeon’s dark hair.

“I’m not sure I like this,” Junmyeon muttered one day as Chanyeol lifted him into the seat of his motorcycle.

It had taken him some convincing but the prince had finally consented to riding pillion with him, just for the experience.

“It’s like riding a horse,” Chanyeol assured him, handing him his helmet.

He only had one but it would only be a short drive. It would be a sin to drive his bike over the wildflower fields that they were visiting for the day.

“We don’t wear helmets when we ride horses,” Junmyeon grumbled, shaking his head carelessly. The flowers in his hair fell off in a shower of petals and Chanyeol brushed them off the seat of his bike.

“Hold on to me and you’ll be fine,” he said and a pair of arms wound around his waist, squeezing.

He wheezed.

“Not that tight.”

The arms loosened and Junmyeon leaned his head against his back, warm and comforting.

“Oh, oh dear!”

His scream pierced his eardrums when he pushed the throttle and the bike surged forward.

Chanyeol laughed aloud, relishing the wind whipping through his hair as they sped through the town, townsfolk looking and pointing.

The grip Junmyeon had on his waist was bordering on painful by the time they arrived and Chanyeol was positive that he had bruises there. But he could not bring himself to mind when Junmyeon lifted off the helmet and his usually perfect hair was mussed and sweaty.

“That was exhilarating!” he laughed as Chanyeol took the helmet from him, “terrifying but amazing!”

“I told you,” Chanyeol grinned and Junmyeon grabbed his wrist.

“You’re it!” he grinned and took off running, the tall grass parting before him before Chanyeol could react.

Chanyeol burst out laughing, setting his helmet onto his handlebars before breaking into a run after the prince.

His long legs easily outpaced Junmyeon and then he was lunging, Junmyeon squealing when he flung his arms around his waist, swinging him around in the air.

“You’re too tall for your own good,” Junmyeon panted, fingers digging into Chanyeol’s shoulders.

He was laughing, breathless and there were flowers growing in his hair, the same electric blue that he had been working on for days.

Chanyeol stared, breathless himself.

He knew that Junmyeon was beautiful.

But it had never hit him quite as hard just how lovely he was.

“You- You’re so beautiful,” he stammered and Junmyeon’s head snapped towards him. His cheeks were flushed a lovely pink from running and Chanyeol was suddenly very aware of how close they were, his arms wrapped around Junmyeon’s slender waist.

The flush on Junmyeon’s cheeks darkened and he ducked his head, as if to hide his face in Chanyeol’s shoulder.

“Thank you?” His sentence went up at its end and Chanyeol shifted him so that his face was visible.

Junmyeon’s eyes were piercing, his gaze flitting to his lips.

Chanyeol set him back on the ground but his hands remained curled around his waist.

They were both silent for a moment, just staring.

“I- May I kiss you?” Chanyeol did not know where the politeness was coming from but all of a sudden they were very close and Junmyeon was tilting his head up in a very inviting way.

His heart was pounding in his chest when Junmyeon merely moved closer, his hands shifting from where they had been looped around his neck to cup his cheeks.

“Please,” Junmyeon murmured and Chanyeol closed the distance between them, slotting their lips together, pulling him close so that they were pressed pelvis to pelvis.

He lost track of how much time had passed as they stood there, wrapped up in each other’s embrace, only pulling apart to catch their breath.

Junmyeon smoothed a hand through his hair and Chanyeol pulled away, dipping his head to nose at his neck instead.

“I’ve wanted you to do that for a while now,” Junmyeon confessed, his words breaking away in a gasp that Chanyeol reveled in when he sucked a light mark into the prince’s pale skin.

“I didn’t know I wanted to do that either,” Chanyeol said.

It had been at least a year since Jongin and Chanyeol had not thought himself capable of falling for anyone that was not him.

But Junmyeon had broken him down, so slowly and sweetly that he had barely noticed himself falling.

“You’re frowning,” Junmyeon murmured, thumbing over his brow and Chanyeol wrinkled his brow even more just to see him giggle.

“Was I terrible?” the prince asked and Chanyeol pulled him closer, leaning down to press a kiss on the corner of his lips.

“No, no, I was just thinking,” he assured and Junmyeon turned his head to steal a proper kiss.

“I’m going to have to thank my brother for this, haven’t I?” Chanyeol laughed at the pout on Junmyeon’s face, tipping his chin up to kiss it away.

“I’m sure he’ll be very happy for us.”

They were making their way back towards Chanyeol’s motorcycle when a strong breeze swept across the field, ruffling the grass and a large shadow fell over them, blocking out the sun.

“Oh dear,” Junmyeon made a sound, clinging to Chanyeol’s arm at the sight of the massive dragon hovering over them both, golden eyes gleaming.

“That’s not your brother, is it?” Chanyeol squinted, “last I checked he had purple eyes.”

The dragon snorted puffs of smoke and they both watched at it shrunk smaller and smaller, the scales receding into the size of a leather jacket slung across the shoulders of Chanyeol’s best friend.

“Yifan!” Junmyeon’s eyes widened and he let go of Chanyeol to run into Yifan’s arms, the giant man sweeping him up in a hug with a laugh.

“Hello, Sleeping Beauty,” Yifan teased and Junmyeon made a contented sound when he was put down. Chanyeol followed with a scowl etched on his face.

“You’re a bastard,” he said by way of greeting, socking his friend in the shoulder.

Yifan barely flinched, sweeping his golden hair back carelessly.

“Hey you should thank me,” he laughed, “I’m your ride home.”

Chanyeol’s stomach dropped the same time that Junmyeon’s smile slipped.

“You’re leaving?”

The prince’s voice was so very small and Chanyeol’s heart ached.

“I have to,” he answered, “I have a job waiting for me back home.”

Junmyeon’s weak smile was such a show of false bravado that Chanyeol wrapped his arm around his waist, pulling him in close.

“I’ll come back, I promise. Maybe one day you can even visit,” he said desperately and Yifan raised an eyebrow.

“You can visit. Jongdae set up a portal in one of your mirrors back home or something,” he said, reaching over to ruffle Junmyeon’s hair.

Junmyeon looked up at him mournfully, clutching Chanyeol’s hand close to him.

“Besides, he’ll have to come back someday to pick up his bike,” Yifan soothed and Chanyeol looked up in alarm.

“You’re not taking my bike?”

“There’s a new one waiting for you back home. I’m not _that _much of an asshole.”

“But I love my bike,” Chanyeol protested even as they walked towards said bike, Yifan rolling his eyes.

“Well you love Junmyeon more,” he scolded and Chanyeol’s cheeks warmed, “and I can’t lift that and your fat ass at the same time.”

“He’s not fat!”

“I’m not fat!”

Junmyeon protested the same time that Chanyeol did and Yifan turned to him in amusement.

He reached over and tweaked his ear gently.

“It’s a figure of speech, Sleeping Beauty. I don’t actually mean it.”

“Oh,” Junmyeon deflated as Chanyeol picked the helmet up, handing it to him.

“Just for that, you can walk back,” Chanyeol sniped at Yifan and his friend laughed.

“Why walk when you can fly?”

Junmyeon yelped in shock when Yifan put on his leather jacket, morphing into the black dragon from before, tail lashing.

“He’s a dick,” Chanyeol muttered under his breath as he slung a leg carelessly over his bike, grabbing Junmyeon’s hand to help him up.

“Do you really have to go?” Junmyeon asked as they rode back to the castle, Yifan flapping noisily above them.

“I do,” Chanyeol replied, not taking his eyes off the road, “I wish I didn’t.”

Junmyeon said nothing more, instead leaning his head against Chanyeol’s back.

“Stop looking like your cat died, Sleeping Beauty,” Yifan rubbed his knuckles against Junmyeon’s cheek gently as Chanyeol tugged his gloves on, shrugging his denim jacket over his shoulders.

“He’s coming back.”

Junmyeon pouted, am electric blue flower sprouting in his hands. He held it out to Chanyeol, carefully tucking it into his hair.

“Think of me,” he murmured and Chanyeol bent to kiss him, sweet and chaste.

“I will,” he replied, stepping away as Yifan began to change back into his dragon form. His motorcycle was tucked neatly into one of the stable stalls, where it would remain until he returned for it.

“I’ll curse you if you don’t,” Jongdae appeared, his eyes twinkling. He petted Baekhyun, tapping the ground with his staff and Chanyeol took one last glance at Junmyeon, standing demurely with his hands folded before him.

“I’ll be back for you, my prince,” he whispered and Junmyeon broke into a smile, catching his shirt in one hand and pulling him close.

“I’ll be here waiting, Prince Chanyeol.”


End file.
